Tag Archives: fear

How many of us know who Mr Marcus is?
How many of us know what a ‘reverse cowgirl’ is?
How many of us have caught cramp or an injury of some sort trying to break out some unimaginable position?

If you know me or have any idea about what I do, then you can imagine that this rant is probably gonna be about sex.
And you’re not wrong either.
But I’d like to broach a particular aspect of sex, especially in this country and that aspect is about the ‘undercover’ side of sexual acceptance in the UK.

This is just my opinion, if you don’t agree… that’s fine, go hi-five ya face…

Now… like most people, I have sex. Quite a lot… one point in my life, I thought I was a sex addict (well that’s head addict, but that’s another story.)
And to have that type of feeling, I actually felt quite alone in that there was no one else to talk to about it because SEX, in the black community, is something that age appropriate (and inappropriate) engage in on a REGULAR basis. Yet it is something that is not discussed, shared or note compared… regularly.

Ladies and gents, before you start saying, ‘what you chatting ‘bout, me and my girls always talk about sex’ – I’m not talking about when you are talking to people you know and are comfortable with, I’m talking about sharing with people you don’t know.

(I can hear quite a few, ‘why would I do that?’)

Sharing is caring – a classic Nigerian saying – and I’m not talking about airing out your business on Facebook, or sending Twitpics of your favourite positions, I’m talking about going to a swinger’s party and meeting your corner shop owner there, or going to an event about sex but changing your mind because you’re worried about who would see you there.

This rant is inspired by responses I’ve had to the Little Black Book and its contents, which have split people down the middle with their opinions. Majority of people have been quite accepting and very open and receiving of it but there is a minority who have shied away, to the point where they did not come to the launch as they didn’t want their friends to know they were ‘freaky’.

But, deep down, isn’t there a freak in all of us?

Isn’t there that lil’ someone inside of all of us who wants to swing from a chandelier or wants to have sex on a public beach while the sun goes down?

Even though the topic of sex is personal to the person, I’ve found that sharing experiences is a great way for people to meet, to relate. Not just for sex, but to able to talk about relative issues, to discuss, to converse, mass debate even. (giggle)

Some people are open, some people are not and that’s the way of the world… I am not trying to change anyone by writing and forcing sex down people’s throats (?), but, in conversations, at events, I’ve seen the way that sex makes some people revert into themselves and turn their head to hide a smile that they KNOW they feel.
My sexual experiences are mine and yours belong to you, but something in the middle could connect us and who knows what can be born from that.
I’m not telling people to walk up to attractive strangers and say, ‘I like getting my dick sucked with a lot of spit,’ or ‘you look like you enjoy people sitting on your face,’ but, say that to the right person and it could be a very interesting night for you.

To be open, you must first know what inspires you in between the sheets. And be comfortable enough to know that you can go from missionary to reverse cowgirl without him slipping out… or you can get her shoulders all the way past her head and she’ll tell you to go deeper…